Descent
by Lstern
Summary: Draco is a Veela. He wants Harry Potter, but Harry won't have him. Can Snape protect his least favorite student from a vengeful Draco?
1. A Rivalry Escalates

**SUMMARY**: Professor Snape finds himself in the unfortunate position of protecting his least favorite student from a vengeful, and powerful, Veela Draco.

**Author's Note**: This story will feature slash, violence, adult language, dark themes, non-con. There will be nothing extremely graphic in this story that warrants a higher rating, but it will be fully deserving of an 'R'.

Draco is not a protagonist in this, so please do not seek a Harry/Draco romance in this story. There will be HP/DM slash, insofar as Draco is essentially stalking Harry, but that's about it.

I'm actually not certain whether to classify this as Harry and Draco, or Harry and Snape, or Snape and Draco even, but all three will be main characters. Snape's not a guy with a heart of gold in this either.

**DESCENT**

Part I: A Rivalry Escalates

Harry Potter was not the usual teenager in many respects, most of which were well-documented. He was an unusually powerful wizard, he spoke Parseltongue, he was the boy destined to vanquish the darkest wizard in the world or die in the process. Pansy Parkinson one night at the Three Broomsticks was lucky enough to discover another of Harry's oddities: he lived with three other teenage boys in a dorm room, yet still remained astonishingly ignorant with regards to sex.

She discovered this amidst the process of skillfully manipulating the rather inebriated Gryffindor. She'd been furious with Draco-- the absolutely livid-beyond-words type of fury that forced her to lower herself to associating with a Gryffindor, and with this particular Gryffindor. Master manipulator that she fancied herself to be, she let slip that she'd walked in on Blaise Zabini giving Draco head.

Pansy glanced up coyly to gauge the damage she had wrought upon her erstwhile lover's reputation. Instead of an expression of revulsion, glazed incomprehension stole over Potter's face.

"Er, 'giving head?'" he echoed blankly.

"A blow job, Potter!"

He stared at her.

"You know," she prompted impatiently. "Sucking cock?"

His eyes grew misty as the words swirled meaninglessly through his alcohol-fogged brain.

It was then that Pansy broke into shrill peals of laughter. Some gleeful little part of her rejoiced in the boy's sheer ignorance, his _innocence._ How in Merlin's name had he reached this age without knowing--

"It's where you take a guy's penis in your mouth and kind of, well--" She fumbled for words. 'Suck' was not quite the whole story. Neither was lick. How to describe the intricate art of the blowjob?

Harry's cheeks were flushing into this delightful color of red.

"You _pleasure _him," Pansy finished in a low, husky voice she knew to be seductive.

"Er, people actually do this?" he stammered.

A wicked smile stretched across Pansy's face, and the thrill she felt as she crept imperceptibly closer to the drunken boy was absolutely _evil._

"Oh, it's completely normal." She'd drawn close enough to him that her breath tickled his cheek. "That Cho girl never showed you? Did anyone--" She fell silent a moment, licking her lips, eyeing him with a ruthless scrutiny that made him want to wriggle out of his skin.

"How about--" she said in a breathy voice. "I show you?"

Harry's breath wheezed as though she'd yanked a noose about his neck. "Uh--well, um, I--"

And then her _fingers_ were touching him _there_, rubbing him through the fabric of his oversized jeans. He groaned in embarrassment when he felt the rush of blood straight to his groin.

Pansy's husky laugh filtered through the suddenly thick air of the pub. "So, the Boy Who Lived wants to come out and play…"

He should have pushed her hand away. He really should have. His eyes darted around the pub; they were in an isolated corner. The concealment charm Ron had cast earlier to hide the Gryffindor firewhiskey antics from any patrons who might question their age still concealed him from public view. He should get her away. But…

Merlin she was touching him in _such _a wonderful way.

She pulled down his zipper and cool air rushed around his flesh. A small, appreciative noise issued from her lips at the sight, and she worked him gently from the fabric. Harry shuddered when her expert, feather-light touch played across his hardness; he gazed in fascination at the delicate white hand moving over his skin.

Every once in a while he would glance up at Pansy, who was staring, rapt, at his facial expressions, a twisted smile curling at her lips, the feral delight transforming her otherwise pretty features into something vicious. Harry found he could not bear to look at her as she touched him. He could only appreciate her countenance later as _he_ touched _her _and melted that viciousness into a haze of pleasure.

In the course of an hour, Harry Potter reached first, second, and third base. They concluded with some remedial instruction on orally pleasuring a female. Pansy seemed to get some perverse thrill, having oblivious patrons just feet away from their sweaty escapades as Harry's lips and tongue swirled between her thighs.

When he finally staggered out of the pub that evening, after the girl had extricated herself from his company, the night air somehow felt different-- alive with possibilities. The students crowded together for the ride back to Hogwarts, and his eyes found the woman who had shown him the way…

Pansy was smirking darkly in Malfoy's direction, her eyes flashing with bitter triumph at the back of her ex-lover's blonde head.

Harry was very thankful, later, that he'd caught that particular expression on her face. Still aching with the raw wound of Sirius's death, he'd been vulnerable enough to possibly invest something even in the capricious affections of Pansy Parkinson. If he'd had one night to sleep on the experience, he might awoken madly in love with the woman who had given him something so beautiful.

As things were, the expression he'd surprised on her face told him the whole story--it was a simple act of vengeance against Draco Malfoy.

Harry didn't hold it against her. Really, he didn't mind being her vehicle of revenge.

She could use him again any time.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not impressed. 

In fact, he was so unimpressed that he pounced on Harry right outside the Potions classroom.

It was not that someone had touched Pansy Parkinson. She'd never been anything more than a fucktoy to him. It was not because Pansy had bragged vocally about the other boy's size in the Slytherin common room. Draco had too much confidence to be hurt by that.

It was the fact that Draco's fucktoy had given a blow job to _Harry Potter_.

Harry. Fucking. Potter. The bastard who had robbed him of everything. His pride. His family. His honor.

Harry Potter. Who had cast shame upon the Malfoy name, who had condemned his father to prison, who had beaten Draco every Quidditch match… Who had thwarted every one of his brilliant schemes… Who had rejected Draco's hand and his friendship…

Fucking. Harry. Potter. He'd touched something that rightfully belonged to Draco. And really, that burned his pride. Potter had to be acting out of spite. It wasn't like that stupid slut Parkinson was actually worth soiling one's dick inside…

An enraged Draco tackled Potter right outside the Potions classroom, batting the hastily-drawn wand out of Potter's hand, and slamming the other boy in the face with a crude fist.

Once before the two boys had fought in this Muggle manner. Potter had jumped upon him and quickly hammered him into the ground, leaving Draco whimpering in pain beneath the Quidditch Pitch.

Not this time…

He was larger than Potter. Stronger. He had the element of surprise, and really…

He was just so goddamn angry.

He slammed his fist into Potter's jaw again and again. Until blood spurted from those lips, until it clotted in the other boy's eyes. Potter at last jerked away from him, rolling across the floor, scrambling to escape. Draco grasped him by the collar and dragged him back, slamming the back of the boy's head upon the cold stone floor, slamming his fist into the boy hero's jaw again. And again.

Hands clutched at Draco's shoulders, hauling him back, and he fought out of their grip to sink a vicious kick in the other boy's side. He tore from the grasping fingers of those who would restrain him to claw at the bloodied flesh of Potter's eyes…

And then he was hit by a spell that sent him staggering back against the far wall of the hallway and thunking to the floor. Swarms of students rushed around him, a beat of frenzied footsteps crowding about his fallen foe. Somewhere in the whirling mist above him, tainted red with his seething fury, approached the black form of Professor Snape, lowering his wand and glancing with a dark expression from the panting Draco to the fallen Harry.

"Weasley, Granger—get Potter to the hospital wing." Snape paused, a long weighted moment. His black eyes flickered indecisively between the two combatants, and then something hard and malignant settled in their depths. "Ten points from Gryffindor for provoking a fight."

Cries of protest rang in the air about him, but the Potions Master ignored them and knelt down beside Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy—are you alright?"

Draco smiled through the weight of the impedimentia spell the Professor had cast. He still had one person on his side, one person who saw Potter for the little bastard he was. His thoughts danced back to the day when they'd found Montague wedged in one of the toilets, and he'd walked in to find Snape and Potter standing with wands drawn upon one another. Snape had glowered at Potter for weeks after that. Draco was absolutely certain he'd walked in on Snape about to curse the little prat.

Pity he couldn't have interrupted their remedial potions tutoring a few minutes later…

"Just fine, sir." He smiled, flushing with adrenaline and delight. He caught Snape's eye, knowing the other man would share his appreciation of the Boy Who Lived coiled up on the floor in agony. "Potter started it."

A cold, vicious smile yanked at the corners of Snape's thin lips. "I know, Mr. Malfoy. I know."

Draco watched him rise smoothly to his feet, whirling around to bark orders at Potter's little Gryffindor cheerleaders, who were all huddled about, babbling hysterically. Snape's razor sharp tongue reduced them to quivering, cowering lumps utterly bereft of the vaunted Gryffindor courage.

Draco smiled maliciously at the little idiots as they stood there, wide-eyed, wondering how any man could be so cruel to them. He treasured that one secret Potter and Dumbledore and all their cronies did not know…

Snape was a Death Eater.

He would always side with Draco. Potter would never beat Draco when it came to Snape.

**End Part 1**


	2. Draco Visits the Hospital Wing

PART II: Draco Visits the Hospital Wing

When Harry awoke, he immediately recognized the distinct odor of the hospital wing. A low moan rumbled from his lips as he lay in his bed, his entire body throbbing with pain.

What had… what…

Draco. Snape. The hallway. Ten points.

Motherfucker. Ten points from _Gryffindor?_ What in Merlin's name was _wrong_ with Snape? How could he get away with deducting those points from _Harry_?

He shot up unceremoniously from the bed, only to feel a blinding jolt of agony shooting through his limbs, his back. Harry collapsed again to the bed like a lead weight, his headache throbbing and pulsing like a hammer.

Through the pain, he distantly heard Madame Pomfrey speaking, her voice lowered into a soft reprimand, and then she was pressing a draught to his lips. Harry drank it unthinkingly, only realizing as the exhaustion poured through him that it was a sleeping draught.

Then he heard the other voice. The sly, cruel voice he knew all too well from too many Potions classes.

"… rare herb. It's a shame to waste the last of the stock on the likes of _Potter_…"

Snape. Fucking, goddamn Snape. Malicious bastard. He'd already killed Sirius. When would he finally be over the pensieve incident?

His eyes sunk closed, his mind whirling back into a sleep torn with dreams.

* * *

That night, when he heard Potter would be sleeping in the hospital wing, Draco couldn't stop cackling. He was thrilled to hear it, even if McGonagall was grumbled about expulsion, even if Snape had told him, voice layered with regret, that he'd have to suspend his Prefect duties. 

Oh, Potter was hurt. In pain. In agony, and Draco relished it.

He wanted to see for himself.

So that night when he found Pansy lying naked in his bed, cheeks flushing as she cooed, "I heard you fought with Potter over me," Draco shoved her rudely to the floor, hurled the shrieking girl from the room, and slammed the door shut, watching the clock with cold, gray eyes as he waited until curfew.

He snuck without incident into the Hospital Wing, taking care to disable any spells designed to protect the boy hero. Thank Merlin his father had taught him all about the various wards and enchantments used to guard a sleeping enemy. And Saint Potter would surely be guarded in abundance.

The only one he couldn't destroy was a True Intentions barrier that hampered any enemy with harmful intent from approaching the bed. The spell was powerful, and he was certain it had been constructed by Dumbledore himself. Well, nevermind about killing Potter in his sleep. Or hurting him even more.

He seethed as he glowered at the invisible obstacle. He wanted, more than anything, to see the damage he'd wrought. Surely just a peek..?

A faint prickle of excitement surged through him as he envisioned Potter's bloodied face, contorted in pain even as the boy slumbered. It sent a sudden shudder of pleasure through him. Just as suddenly, inspiration struck him. He closed his eyes and filled his mind with salacious thoughts, those wretched dreams he'd had that left him hard and tore at his mind during the day. Potter-- naked, sweaty, humbled. Utterly defenseless.

He was willing to bet Dumbledork hadn't thought to ward the other boy against those of amorous intent, and sure enough, he crossed the barrier easily.

The sight that greeted him as he approached Potter's hospital bed was almost as delicious as he'd anticipated. He really wished he'd been here before that Pomfrey bitch started healing him, but the lingering evidence of Potter's earlier injuries was still there for Draco to see. The faint swelling along the jaw, around his eyes. The black and blue bruises. A small, dried spot of crusty blood at the corner of his mouth Pomfrey had failed to wipe clean.

He recognized from the heavy breathing that the boy was in the grip of a pain-relieving sleep draught, and a jolt of excitement thrilled through him, knowing Potter was drugged, and would not be waking anytime soon.

He approached the other boy, drawing so close that his breath fluttered tendrils of Potter's shaggy, black hair. The deep, even breathing, only slightly strained with what was undoubtedly the pressure of broken ribs. He pressed his cheek to Potter's smooth, warm skin, smelled the sweet scent of Potter's sweat and the lingering aroma of blood. And before he even gave thought to what he was doing, he was tasting the salty skin, licking in one sweep across Potter's cheek, over his closed lips.

Draco lingered there, hovering above the butterfly of flesh, feeling Potter's breath tickling his cheek. So close, so very close. Then his lips were pressing at Potter's, urging open an unresisting and unresponsive mouth, pressing his tongue past the slick teeth and into the wet cave beyond.

He explored the other boy's mouth slowly, gradually easing open the jaws wider as he delved more forcefully into the boy's mouth. A jerk from the inert body below him told him he'd hit the gag reflex, and Draco pulled back, thrumming with an intense feeling of power, fervently wishing he could plunge his cock right down the other boy's throat and feel the other boy's muscles contracting around him, trying to expel the fleshy invader, failing.

He drew back from the boy's face, ran his eyes critically down Potter's body, and then ran his hands down it. Potter winced in his sleep, and squirmed at the feeling of Draco's fingers pressed against his sore ribs, his bruised torso. But he was drugged, completely unconscious, and Draco smiled to himself. He was still smiling when he shoved his hand under Potter's waistband and wrapped his fingers around that soft piece of flesh.

Potter gurgled an objection in his sleep. Draco grinned darkly, and compressed his fingers around the other boy's flesh. Once, twice, slowly massaging blood into it, coaxing forth an erection. But either the boy was too far under, or he simply couldn't manage it, because Draco found himself quickly frustrated in his efforts as the flesh remained soft.

He growled low in his throat, and then gave Potter's cock a brutal yank. Potter shrieked, his body thrashing away from the pain, even though the boy remained steadfastly unconscious. Draco had only enough time to grin at the spectacle before a hand seized the back of his neck.

"Mr. Malfoy! What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Snape snarled, whirling Draco about to face him and looming before the boy like some oversized bat.

Draco tried to shrug off Snape's grip, irritated. "What the hell does it look like, Severus?"

"Don't call me Severus," Snape growled, his grip tightening as he hauled Draco further away from Potter.

As soon as they emerged into the cool air of the hallway, he spun the boy around and pulled his face close, his sour breath filling the air, black eyes glittering menacingly. "I asked you what the hell you think you're doing! The Headmaster is _this_ close to expelling you, and you sexually assault Potter in the hospital wing?" Snape grasped his shoulders and shook him violently. "What the hell are you _thinking_? What if I had been someone else? Do you think you'll remain in this school-- no, do you believe you'll remain _out of prison_ if you're caught molesting Potter?"

Draco hadn't really thought of it that way. He suddenly felt embarrassed under Snape's infuriated glare.

"I didn't come here to--"

"I _know_ you didn't!" Snape rasped. "It was _stupid_, Draco! You were a fool to come!" He dragged the boy closer, glaring straight into his eyes in a way that froze Draco's blood. "Stay. Away. From. Potter. _Or I'll expel you myself_."

"You can't do that!" Draco gasped. "My father--"

"Will not take kindly to your idiocy," Snape said in a chilly tone. "And you would do well to remember that we _both_ answer to a more exacting master than Lucius Malfoy."

Draco gulped. The Dark Lord.

"That Master would not take kindly to your squandering your position here." Snape's tone was dangerous, heavy with implication.

"No," Draco said, his throat suddenly very dry. "No, he wouldn't."

Snape rose to his full height, and sneered down at Draco with the full weight of his contempt.

"Get out of my sight."

End Part Two

* * *

texasjeanette: You're exactly right. Snape is not a nice person, he doesn't like Harry, but hisloyalty _is_ to Dumbledore.

madhatter hi-chan, tinkita, me, kateri1, texasjeanette-- thanks for your feedback!

Comments are very welcome, and they really are a big motivation.


	3. Draco's Inheritance

**Part III: Draco's Inheritance**

It happened nearly a month later in NEWT Potions. Harry's cauldron was in unfortunately close proximity to Draco's, but he was doing his best to ignore the blonde.

Something about Malfoy made his skin crawl; he considered, with some shame, the possibility that he was a bit afraid of Malfoy after being beaten half to death by the other boy. However, after considering all the times Dudley had pounded him into the floor, Harry concluded it wasn't that.

But it was… something. He felt his body tense automatically every time Malfoy drew close, a cold shiver creeping down his spine.

Sometimes, he'd even catch a look in those cold, silver eyes that seemed strangely… ravenous.

Thankfully, though, he didn't see much of Malfoy anymore.

Since having his prefect status revoked, and serving weeks of detention with Filch, Malfoy was oddly subdued. He avoided Harry nearly as much as Harry had always tried to avoid him. It was a welcome change.

Thus, when Malfoy collapsed violently onto the floor in the middle of Potions, his entire body wrought with convulsions, Harry lingered several feet away, uncertain just what had happened to the other boy.

Snape, however, immediately pinned responsibility on him.

"Potter," Snape rasped, bending down to hold Draco in place. His black eyes snapped accusingly to Harry's. "Detention!"

"For what?" Harry cried. "I didn't do anything!"

His objections were ignored, as Snape gathered a band of trustworthy Slytherins to haul the blonde boy to the hospital wing.

* * *

That night in detention, the delightful absence of Malfoy in his life came to an end.

Draco sauntered in, already grinning smugly. His eyes alighted on Harry, and that grin grew deadly.

"All alone, Potter?"

Harry sent him a dirty look, and turned back to scrubbing his cauldron. "Snape's out, Malfoy." He peered at Draco keenly. "Don't _you_ have detention with Filch?"

"I'm in no condition for manual labor, tonight," Draco replied with a self-important look. "Professor Snape said I could catalogue potions with him instead."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wonderful."

He turned back to scrubbing his cauldron. The weight of Draco's eyes still rested on his back.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened to me?" Draco demanded.

"I don't really care," Harry replied, teeth gritted. "I'm serving detention for it, though."

Malfoy chuckled.

"Well, you were fortunate enough to witness a monumental event in my life. The awakening."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

"I'm a Veela. Just came into my inheritance," Draco announced proudly. "Apparently the awakening doesn't happen for most Veela until they're eighteen or nineteen, so I'm an early bloomer."

"Well congratulations, Malfoy," Harry said sarcastically. "Guess you're a big boy, now. Your daddy must be so proud in his prison cell."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You think you're such a big man, Potter," he sneered. "You're no better than the rest of us! And one of these days someone's going to make you sorry, and _I'm _going to be there to see it!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah... You'll _have me_, you'll _make me pay_, you'll _kill me_. You've told me. You know what? This is _tired_, Malfoy. And it's not worth my time." Harry turned cool, indifferent eyes to the pale Slytherin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a storeroom of cauldrons to scrub, and _that's _far more amusing than listening to you."

He turned away and did not see Draco's eyes harden into two glints of steely gray, did not see the pure, unadulterated hatred that overtook his expression. A change slowly washed over the room, the air somehow growing thicker, more difficult to breathe. The lights dimmed impossibly. Something uneasy loomed in the atmosphere, like electricity, crackling stronger and stronger until it seemed to quiver just short of a violent surge.

Harry had already picked up the cleaning solution and the washrag, determined to ignore the other boy, when the back of his neck prickled strangely.

Feeling uneasy, hearing his own heart thump wildly, head suddenly whirling, Harry turned back to face his nemesis, locking eyes with Draco, who now sported a cruel, serpentine smile in the half-light of the dungeon.

"Starting to feel it now, Potter?" he said, his voice trembling with loathing. "How about _now?_"

And the sense of something being wrong, something being off, grew impossibly stronger.

Harry blinked, unable to comprehend Draco's words for a long, sluggish moment. It only registered dully how Malfoy's sneer suddenly transformed his features into... into...

Dear God, Malfoy had the face of an angel!

Harry's mouth was suddenly dry, his tongue far too thick and unwieldy in his throat. A vague part of him registered his disbelief, and the sheer feeling of wrongness that he suddenly couldn't tear his eyes from _Draco Malfoy_. He felt drawn into the gray malice of the other boy's eyes, pleasure tingling up and down his body as he drank in the sweetness of the other boy's hatred.

God... How had he gone so long without noticing how beautiful Draco Malfoy was?

Draco Malfoy was overpoweringly, irresistibly attractive. Sweat broke from every pore of his body, strange sensations pulsing through his body and mind, and he just stared at the other boy. Just _stared_ at the smooth, aristocratic features, the blonde perfection of the boy before him. He was so beautiful...

"That's it," Malfoy's sneering voice came though the haze rapidly filling Harry's mind like a sweet balm of honey. "You like what you see now, don't you, Potter?"

Harry's breath was trapped in his throat, overstimulated by the mere fact that Malfoy was... was _speaking _to him! He thought he would faint with the sheer pleasure of it. A warm glow quickly suffused him, his legs growing weak and shaky beneath him even as they urged him to close the distance and press himself to the other boy, to touch, to taste that sweet haven of perfection standing before him...

Draco. Dra-Co. His name was so beautiful! Harry found himself moaning it, the sibilant word caressing his tongue. How had he never realized this? Everything, everything about Draco Malfoy was just... just so wonderful, so wonderful. He could almost cry with the joy of it.

A part of him, deep down, realized something had gone terribly wrong and was screaming warnings at him, but he could barely hear over the roaring of blood in his ears.

"M-Malfoy," he heard the words trembling over numbed lips. "Wh-What is g-going on? What's happening?" His own voice seemed at a distance, as though it belonged to someone or something that was not him anymore, some cold and dark part of his being he wanted to abandon so he could bury himself in this sweetness.

_Draco... Draco... Draco_... the name lolled though his heads like pure ecstasy.

Draco laughed, watching him intently as he took a step closer, sending goose bumps racing up Harry's arms. Draco was getting closer, closer... Closing the distance... Oh, God, he could practically feel him at this distance, could practically taste the warm salt of his skin.

"Not such a big man now, are you, Potter?" Draco sneered, eyes alight with something wild and predatory. "Don't find the things I say very _laughable _anymore, do you?"

Harry's legs were weak; they were going to give out. He couldn't stand this, couldn't bear how wonderful this was, how agonizing it was. He had to get away from Draco-- he needed to get closer! He was so far away it made him feel sick, was he breathing anymore? He could hear himself panting. What if his breathing was too loud? Would Draco be upset with him--

He vaguely heard the door slam open, some part of him registering the flurry of black that glided soundlessly through the entrance. Harry still didn't understand, didn't dare try to comprehend just what was happening when the dark figure froze in place behind the unaware Draco.

At a distance came a silky voice: "Draco!"

Something told Harry to cringe from this particular voice, this tone, but he could do nothing. He was paralyzed, utterly lost in the currents of pleasure and delight overtaking his mind.

"Draco," came that quiet, edgy voice again. _"What have you done?_"

Draco's gray eyes flickered just slightly. Harry noticed it, noticed the pulse beating furiously beneath the ivory skin of his throat, the slight twitch of those beautiful lips. Harry just wanted to press kisses against them.

"Nothing yet." Draco's tone was as hard and malicious as his steely gray eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy-- stop this right now," Snape's waspish voice held a dangerous edge that forced even the blonde Slytherin to stiffen.

"Why should I?" Draco's gaze returned to Harry's face, a triumphant twist to his lips. "Look at him. He's _helpless_. I could have him right now."

"That would not be wise." The dangerous note in Snape's voice was now undisguised. "Release him, Draco. He's not for you."

A hint of anger and desperation crossed Draco's face, and for the first time, he craned his head around to glare at Snape. "Why?" His voice was slightly petulant now. "Why can't I have him?"

"A friend of ours would not take kindly to your choice. I trust you do not want that."

With Draco's attention diverted, Harry was aware of a pang of loss. He began to feel the fog creep from his mind.

Immediately, Draco's eyes snapped back to his, and with a glint of determination, unleashed that invisible force that sent Harry back into his dreamland of pleasure and infatuation.

"Why?" Draco demanded, voice lined with steel. "I should think _He'd _consider it an early Christmas present." His sneering smile sent a chill that reached Harry even in his distant place. "_The-Boy-Who-Lived_," Draco spoke the title like a profanity. "I could make the little shit grovel at his feet."

Draco was silent a moment, his gaze still assessing. A queer and unsettling glint stole into his eyes.

"And at _mine_."

He spoke the words softly enough that Harry could barley discern them, even if he'd had all his facilities about him. Snape evidently heard them, though.

"He would not appreciate Potter bowing at _your_ command. Release him, Draco. Now. _I will not tell you again_."

Snape had drawn soundlessly closer to Draco, his dark, menacing figure sending a quiver of fear though the blonde boy to whom Harry's eyes were still riveted. Draco sent a furious glance Harry's way, then turned abruptly away from him, breaking whatever hold he had on the raven-haired boy.

The world suddenly clashed back into unrelenting focus, and Harry's body gave out beneath him; the floor of the dungeon rushed up to meet him, and he could only slump bonelessly across the icy cold stone. Blissful fog rolled away from his mind, leaving an unrelenting headache in its wake.

"My father will hear of this," Draco said harshly, glaring hatefully at Snape, his prey temporarily forgotten.

Snape held Draco's eyes with his fathomless black ones. "Most assuredly he will. Now get out."

Harry's body was shaking weakly. His head whirled, thoughts chaotic, unable to understand what had just happened.

Draco knelt down to catch Harry's eyes. He cast the prone boy a hate-filled glance that somehow send cold tendrils down Harry's spine. The glint in the Slytherin's eye was positively creepy.

"Be seeing you, Potter."

And rising to his feet with a weird, slightly crazed smile, he whirled around and stalked past Snape, slamming the dungeon door behind him.

**End Part III**


	4. Snape's Warning

**Part IV: Snape's Warning**

There was a long moment of silence as Snape stared after his protégé, and Harry trembled on the floor, trying to collect himself after what had just transpired.

The Professor's gaze at long last slid from the door and rested upon Harry, still huddled on the floor.

"I suggest you get off the ground, Potter."

His tone lacked the usual malice and rancor Harry had come to associate with him, and he stared at Snape blankly a moment, still trying to get his head around to these events.

"Well, Potter?" Snape snapped at last, patience wearing thin.

Harry shoved himself up, scrambling to his feet as quickly as his suddenly spent form would allow. He staggered slightly upon rising and had to grip a desk for balance. His glasses were slightly askew, and he adjusted them with shaky fingers.

Snape took this all in with his keen black eyes. "Sit down."

Harry practically collapsed into one of the chairs behind him, still trembling weakly as Snape disappeared into his office. He couldn't believe what had happened. What the hell was that? Some form of enchantment? Imperius? Surely a Veela wasn't that powerful.

It hadn't been like that with Fleur. Not at all like that. How in the hell had Draco done that?

It took him a moment to register it when Snape appeared above him and offered him a goblet of potion. Harry was too shaken to even question it, and he reached out and grasped it, downing the bitter liquid without asking what it was. Immediately a new strength flowed to his limbs, the tremors slowly easing away. He shook his head, finding his vision and thoughts clearing. Snape had leaned onto the desk across from his chair, watching him.

"Better?"

Harry nodded numbly, knowing he should thank Snape, yet still unable to extend the man even that much courtesy. Snape didn't seem to care. He snatched the goblet back from Harry's hand, holding it between two fingers as if the boy's touch had somehow tainted it.

"I suggest you stay away from Draco Malfoy, at least until he's safely bonded to a mate," Snape said slowly and deliberately. "Or you may find yourself in a most unfortunate position of spending the rest of your life with him."

Harry stared at him, his revulsion warring with disbelief. "Is-- is that what that was? He was trying to-- to bond with me?"

Snape's features flickered with distaste. "Worst case scenario, yes. He was in the process of initiating a bond. Hopefully," the Professor glanced darkly towards the door, "he was merely taking advantage of his new powers to play mind games with you. Some time away will hopefully give him the opportunity to reconsider his folly."

Harry's brow furrowed. "But why-- why would he--"

"Oh, surely even you can guess it, Potter," Snape snarled. "You were powerless against him. You can see why Malfoy might enjoy that. I only pray the prospect of enduring you for the rest of his life will deter him from indulging in that pleasure again. He may take it too far next time."

"Too far?" Harry echoed dumbly.

Snape sighed, as if very put upon. "You're aware that a Veela, any Veela, attracts all wizards in its vicinity. When a Veela chooses to bond with one in particular, it focuses that magnetism upon one individual until its magical essence fuses with the wizard's. This is the process of bonding… Essentially, should he focus too much energy upon inspiring an attraction in you, and he'll end up roping himself to you for life."

"So Malfoy can just bond with me? That easily?" Harry said, feeling sick. "I'd be his… his whatever you'd call it?"

"No, imbecile," Snape said, irritated. "The initial bond, he would merely tie himself to you. It's only upon consummation that the bond would tie you likewise to him."

"Consummation?"

Snape leveled him a cruel, disdainful glare.

"You mean sex?" Harry sputtered. "With Draco Malfoy? That's disgusting!"

"Quite," Snape said dryly, mirroring Harry's revulsion. Whether it was more from the prospect of Draco consummating a bond, or from the idea of Harry doing so, the boy could only speculate.

**End Part Four**

A/N: Feedback is always good.


	5. Avoiding Malfoy

**PART V: AVOIDING MALFOY**

* * *

Harry went out of his way to avoid Malfoy, but of course, Malfoy suddenly seemed to be everywhere.

He knew part of it was Malfoy's simple attention whoring. Draco Malfoy suddenly had sex appeal he could manipulate at will, and he thrived on drawing a crowd of adoring witches and wizards to coo over his looks, his wit, his money.

But he also nurtured the dark suspicion Malfoy was going out of his way to find _him_.

Malfoy appeared in the Great Hall whenever Harry was at meals, departed down the exact same corridors that Harry chose. When he wanted to practice on the Quidditch pitch, he'd find a gang of Slytherins gathered already in the bleachers.

He'd feel the other boy's cold gray eyes fixed on him in class. Whenever Harry looked, Malfoy would send him a dark, private smile that made something inside him shudder.

Harry couldn't stop thinking with that icy cold dread of how easily Malfoy's allure had overpowered him in the classroom. It was horrifying knowing his enemy had the potential to wield so much power over him.

It all came to a head one day in the Great Hall when a shove from behind sent him careening into the Hufflepuff table, leaving Harry dazed on the floor, pudding dripping in steady gloops down the front of his shirt.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!"

Draco was smirking at him from where he stood. Before Harry could draw a sharp breath to retort, he felt it again. That ominous pleasure sweeping over him, the strange electricity on the air that warned him Draco was focusing the so-called 'Veela allure' solely upon him.

Had he been able to glance around, he might have seen other students rousing—somewhat groggily—from the casual haze of lust Draco's presence had been giving them. Focusing his powers upon Harry withdrew the generalized allure he held over everyone else.

But Draco didn't care about them.

Only about _Harry_.

Harry tried to gain his footing, tried to flee before it could kick in again. Somehow, though, he found himself standing stock-still before his enemy, goggling yet again at Draco's suddenly-beautiful face.

Malfoy saw his expression and smiled wickedly. He deliberately dipped his fingers in the pudding smeared on Harry's chest, and raised them to loom just inches from Harry's lips.

"Lick it off."

Harry was distantly aware of something inside him screaming to fight this, escape this, cover his ears and shut his eyes. His breath was heaving in quick gasps; he felt like his heart would burst out of his chest as every one of his emotions seemed at war within him.

"Lick them clean, Potter," Draco ordered, breaking the intense gaze only briefly to see if any teachers had noticed.

Evidently, they had not. His victim was trapped.

Harry felt himself moving automatically to obey. He disregarded that noxious force trying to stop him—that small voice crying out in his mind—and he drew closer to the other boy, his mouth suddenly dry. Excitement coiled inside him, a jolt that went directly to his suddenly hardening erection—

It struck him like a physical blow when a freckled arm suddenly locked around his neck, yanking him back against the firm chest of his best friend, whirling him out of the range of Draco's eyesight.

"Snap out of it, mate!" Ron bellowed in his ear, shaking him violently.

Harry looked over his shoulder at Ron, blinking dazedly, and then remembered suddenly who he was—where he was—and the extent to which he'd been about to humiliate himself.

The laughter of the Slytherins stung his ears. Draco's rang out above the rest.

"Good thing your boyfriend was here to protect you, Potty!" Malfoy jeered.

Harry's teeth clenched. He patted his friend's arm to reassure him he'd recovered, and before Draco knew what was coming, Harry swung around and drove his fist square into the Veela's face, knocking the blonde to the ground.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" he hissed at the fallen boy, who still laughed even with blood pouring from his split lip. "I will _kill you _if you pull that crap with me again!"

Draco watched him with a lazy smile. His eyes locked with Harry's meaningfully, and his tongue deliberately swept out from between his lips to taste the blood.

"Mmm…"

Harry averted his eyes, feeling wretchedly ill and suddenly very afraid.

"Weasley can't be with you all of the time, Potter."

He tried to ignore Malfoy's laughter as it pursued him from the hall.

* * *

Harry felt distinctly anxious, knocking on the door for admittance to Snape's office. The feeling grew only worse when his professor swung the door open and fixed him with cold black eyes.

"What, Potter?"

"TherehastobesomethingyoucandoaboutMalfoy!" Harry said, words tumbling out of him in a jumble.

Snape folded his arms. "I didn't catch that, Potter. _E-nun-ci-ate_."

"There has to be something you can do about Malfoy, sir!" Harry gasped, frantic with anxiety. "He's _stalking _me—I swear it! He follows me everywhere! He tried to make me lick pudding off his fingers at dinner yesterday, and just now in DADA he— he—"

Harry stopped abruptly, feeling the blood heat up in his cheeks at the memory of how Draco had dropped into the seat next to him before Harry had had a chance to move, how the charm had crept over him like some insidious wash of poison, compelling him to stay... And then the hour had turned into a slow, tortorous agony as Harry felt the constriction of his trousers against his groin… the heat of Draco's thigh pressed against his… a slim, pale hand creeping up his leg, resting lightly upon Harry's erection through his pants. Then rubbing… massaging blood into him under the table and out of the sight of the class until he was throbbing with need and fighting not to moan his pleasure.

If it hadn't been for Draco's implicit command—_don't move, don't make a sound—_ scrawled on the sheet of parchment he shoved Harry's way upon first trapping him in his seat, Harry wouldn't have had even the self control to limit himself to _that_.

He'd only been capable of it because he'd been obeying Draco, the boy he suddenly had wanted to please more than anyone else in the world.

It was a tortorous twenty minutes as Draco alternately tormented him and withdrew his hand, all the while holding Harry in that malevolent thrall that subsumed his very will. Twenty minutes in which Harry lived and breathed for the boy sitting next to him, his entire body on fire with arousal at their proximity.

Twenty minutes before Hermione— suddenly spotting Draco's slight movement and realizing exactly what was happening— slipped out from behind her desk and scurried across the classroom when the instructor's back was turned. She forcibly grabbed Harry's shoulder and inserted herself on the bench between them like a buffer.

It broke the spell and thoroughly disgusted Draco.

"I am not sitting next to a Mudblood!" he whispered viciously.

"Then move," Hermione replied, her voice like ice.

Harry would have said something, but once the whirling in his head subsided, he stayed half-hunched over in his chair, both in an attempt to conceal his straining erection and in a desperate wish he could disappear into the floor. His body quivered with anger and self-disgust, and he couldn't even bring himself to thank Hermione—he was so humiliated.

When she patted his shoulder sympathetically, it was like salt rubbed in a wound. It was almost worse that she'd _seen it _and been forced to _rescue him _like some helpless little child than if Draco had simply messed with him for an hour.

But he wasn't going to tell Snape any of that.

His hands were still trembling now with both lingering fear and rage. His gaze was burning into Snape's with raw emotion.

"You're his head of house," Harry said vehemently. "You can _do _something. You've _got_ to do something! He's not going to stop this!"

Snape's eyes were fixed on his for a long moment. Then his thin lips twitched into a slow smirk.

"I suggest, Mr. Potter," he said delicately, "That an exercise of self-control might be prudent on _both _your parts."

Legilimency. _Damn _him!

It was just what Harry didn't need right now.

"You know what? Fuck you, Snape!" Harry spat, whirling away.

Snape seized him by the collar before he could escape.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. I suggest you watch your mouth. As for your… predicament—" Harry bristled in Snape's grip, hating him, "Well, as it so happens, I am already taking measures to address the situation."

Harry reluctantly dragged his gaze back up to Snape's in a silent question. The older wizard released him and gestured for Harry to follow him into the office, where the boy beheld a steaming cauldron brewing over the fire.

"I suspect I'll need several more attempts to get the right formula," Snape said, his angular features bony and pale in the flickering light, "but I've been researching for two years a possible counter-potion to the Veela allure."

"Really?" Harry said, suddenly hopeful. "You think you'll get it soon?"

"I believe so. I've already tested several varieties upon myself," Snape said, scowling. "Ms. Decaleur's visit during the Tri-Wizard tournament provided me with ample opportunity to develop the prototype, but I suspect the power of the allure varies with the individual Veela. I shall have to formulate a new batch designed specifically to counter Draco's magic… The effort has unfortunately not as of yet yielded the success I'd hoped for."

Harry stared grimly at the cauldron. He did not appreciate Snape's evasion of a definite answer.

A sick, swooping feeling flooded his stomach at the thought of Draco having free reign upon him until Snape managed to get the potion right.

"So what happens until then?" Harry said quietly, his voice almost drowned by the loud bubbling of the potion. "Can't I get a—a restraining order or something? I mean—it's not fair he can just… do anything he _wants _to me. I would never let him if I could help it."

For a moment he felt the Draco's touch, a ghostly warmth trailing up his leg and caressing him through his trousers. Harry's skin crawled.

Malfoy had _touched_ him. And he'd _let _him. He'd just sat there and _let_ him.

Panted, even. In the middle of class. Pressed a hand over his own lips to muffle a goddamn fucking _mewl _of pleasure

"Laws of consent are ambiguous when it comes to many breeds of magical creatures," Snape said, either showing tact or indifference by turning away to study his potion instead of Harry. "Too frequently, _they _are the target of persecution; it's often not politically viable to institute measures against _them_ when they're already in a significantly disadvantaged position Veela, especially, are assisted by their glamorous public image and pleasing sexual attributes."

It was a roundabout way of telling Harry '_no'._

"Of course," Snape added darkly, dipping his ladle into the potion for a brief stir, "most are not quite so flippant and irresponsible with their gifts as young Mr. Malfoy. I imagine such measures would have been instituted years ago were a greater number of Veela inclined to hideously abuse their powers in such a manner."

Harry gazed into the distance, feeling hopeless. There was nothing he could do but wait.

"Thanks," he said, turning belligerently to stalk out the door.

"Potter—"

Harry halted but did not turn.

"I suggest you avoid traveling alone," Snape advised. "If you must, wear that damnable invisibility cloak. And if you should happen to blunder upon Draco, well, I'd suggest a simple 'stupefy'."

"Won't you deduct points if I hex Draco, sir?" Harry muttered.

"But of course, Mr. Potter," Snape said with a note of malevolence. "But somehow I think you'd prefer losing the House Cup to the alternative."

* * *

And he did. Each blind corner he turned, each time he found himself alone, Harry's heart thumped like mad in his chest and his wand was drawn, a hex sitting on his lips.

He tried not to dwell upon the fact that Draco had thus far only come after him in plain sight of a dozen other people. He tried to feel he was making a difference and not walking around, utterly helpless.

The Marauders Map helped some, but it simply became impractical to walk around all day, his head buried in an item that any number of unscrupulous characters would be happy to know about and steal from him.

Once he jumped the gun and accidentally hit Terry Boot with a hex. Once he hit Draco and Crabbe when they were unfortunate enough to be walking down an adjacent hallway, entirely unaware of his presence. Once he'd just missed Draco, but managed to scare him off, when the boy was hidden behind a tapestry; Harry suspected that might have been genuine attempt to get at him.

But the day when it came was Care of Magical Creatures. Harry had felt instantly relaxed upon realizing Draco was skiving off the class. Hagrid had sent them off to feed their own Runespoors, and Harry was tending to his when suddenly a wave of that familiar arousal swept over him.

He was caught off guard this time because he'd really thought he was safe, and it was too sudden for him to snatch his wand back from his cast-off cloak, to shout for help from Ron and Hermione. A strangled sound issued from his throat, but that was all that got out.

He could _feel _Draco emerging from the thicket behind him, and awaited him standing stock-still and trembling with desire. A slim finger trailed down his back, dipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.

"Follow me. Stay quiet."

Harry followed Malfoy blindly, suddenly unable to remember why he'd been so afraid of this, mesmerized by the other boy's beauty, his grace. How lightly he moved on feet, maneuvering smoothly around a muddy puddle, leaping easily over a mossy log.

"I love you so much—" Harry blurted when Draco drew him to a stop.

The other boy sneered. "Yeah, sure. Now suck my cock." He tangled his finger's in Harry's hair and urged him down, his free hand parting his robes and yanking down his zipper.

Harry's heart beat furiously in his chest.

_Nononononononononono…_

He ignored that distant, unpleasant voice in his mind, the one that seemed intent on depriving him of this wonderful gift.

"Do you know what to do, Potter?"

Harry stared, enraptured at Draco's half-hard member, his palms suddenly sweaty. The question made his eyes fill with tears, because he didn't. He really didn't. Was Draco going to be mad at him? Would he… (_please _no!)… send him away?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I've never done this before… I can learn, please let me learn…"

"That's okay, Potter." The grip tightened in his hair, and Malfoy pressed his erection against his lips. "Just remember what my ex-girlfriend did to you—especially that swirly thing she likes with her tongue— and I'll tell you where to go from there."

* * *

"Harry... Harry!... HARRY!"

"WHAT?" Harry shouted, slamming open the door.

"You've been in there for three hours," Ron said. "What in the hell are you doing, mate?"

Harry stared at him. The hatred in his expression made Ron retreat a step.

"Brushing. My. Teeth."

"You've been in there for _three hours_," Ron repeated slowly.

Harry stared at him blankly, then slammed the door shut again.

_Go ahead, suck it… Like that…Shit, Potter, watch the teeth!…_

Back in the privacy of the washroom, he slammed his fist into the wall, hitting it again and again until blood sprouted from his knuckles and smeared against the ceramic tiles.

_Open up wider… Yeah, take it all… Fuck, Potter… Choke on it…_

He feverishly raised his wand to his mouth and tried another scourgify. The tingling left his throat harsh and painful, and made tears sting his eyes with renewed pain. But he cast it again. And again.

_Swallow-- No… on your face… all over the precious golden boy's face…_

Ron finally came back in an interminable time later and surveyed Harry—huddled on the floor, staring mindlessly at the wall—and then the red smear of blood he'd left on the wall.

_… my bitch … say it, Potter… say it, you slut…_

_So happy he'd pleased Draco. So eager to obey. Your bitch._

_A laugh. That's right. Mine._

"That's it," Ron snarled. "That's _enough_. Fuck Snape! We're going to Dumbledore. Or—or we'll go to the Ministry. Or my parents… We'll bail and go to my house for the rest of the term, huh?— Or what about Grimmauld Place?… But first I'm gonna kill that little prat. I'm gonna strangle him, you'll see. Pound that ugly face into a bloody goddamn pulp… But Dumbledore first. Maybe we can get him expelled. Or arrested. We just need to talk to Dumbledore."

Harry buried his face in his hands, unable to listen to this, feeling like he was coming apart at the seems.

"_I _just need to talk to Dumbledore," Ron amended. "You just need to—need to—"

He reached down under Harry's armpits and hoisted him upright.

"You… you just go to sleep."

* * *


End file.
